peach tea
by RebelzHeart
Summary: "You're my kid!" Matt snapped, waving his hands into the air and putting his tea on the table. "Okay? You're my kid, and I care about you and that will never be a weakness!" Part 10 in a cup of tea series.


The air smells like vomit and his suit smells like barf, but all Peter can really see is the red outline of blood dripping into the edges of his vision.

He thinks, a little bit proudly, _hey, cool, I just stopped like, ten dudes_.

Then he thinks, _oh sweet baby cheesecakes, there's no way that I can let Matt find out about this_.

Because if they're being completely honest, Matt will probably pound anybody into the ground for hurting Peter, then he'll follow it up by sending them to a top notch jail cell forever on his lawyer side, then he'll act all mother hen-like and just overall supremely embarrass Peter.

Plus, there's the whole 'Matt-(being-the-idiot-that-he-is)-will-totally-blame-himself-for-this'. Somehow. Because Matt is a lawyer. And apparently that means that arguing with him is futile.

He's been through worse than this. (He thinks of a building on his back, he thinks of that time where he shielded a little girl from bullets, he thinks of getting shoved in a locker and trying to breath as he has his first panic attack.)

But that was before, before people knew about it, before people would panic about it, before he met the total mother hen that was Matt Murdock.

"Matt," He asked the air, knowing that Matt would probably respond, "Are you going to kill me?"

He stepped into a nearby pharmacy and bought some disinfectant and bandages, patching himself up before heading home in hopes that it would quell the brewing storm.

As soon as he stepped home through the balcony, though, Matt replied in a tight, forced light and mild voice, "Nah, I won't kill you. Maim you a little, yes." He cocked his head to the side and Peter heard a sharp, angry intake of breath. "You got shot _three times_ , Peter, why didn't you think to _call for help_?"

"I had it handled," Peter grumbled as he shut the curtains and ripped his mask off. _Besides_ , the unbidden thought came to mind, _I've had worse._

But he couldn't tell Matt that. Matt would freak out, and maybe drag him over to Tony ( _again_ ) for good measure.

" _Shot_ ," Matt repeated, voice harsh and grating, _"Three times_."

"At least it wasn't four," Peter replied, forcing his voice to stay light. "Come on, Matt, no biggie, right?"

Matt stared at him incredulously. Or, at least, he stared at his forehead. Matt wasn't the best at eye contact. "You're off patrol for a week."

"Hey, _what_ , no, man, let's talk this through, let's sound it out and..."

"A week," Matt repeated firmly, giving Peter the stink-eye. "And that's _final_."

Peter grumbled some very not nice things under his breath. "It's not that bad, Matt."

"You could have _died_."

"But I didn't."

"But you _could have_!" Matt snapped, shaking his head as he took in a deep, slow, breath. The next words, he forced to stay calm, though his brow was still furrowed and his lips were still set into a permanent frown. "Foggy dropped by with some new peach tea for you to try out. Would you like some?"

Peter scowled, "Yes," he replied tightly, and Matt dipped his head in acknowledgement as he started to heat up the water.

They stood in silence for a while, awkward and still, before Matt said quietly, "I know you can handle it." He turned the heat off and began to pour out the water onto the tea leaves. "I know that you can, I just don't..." He took a deep breath, "I just don't want for you to have to."

"Have to do what?" Peter asked quietly, still a little angry about being grounded. "Have to be a vigilante?"

"Well..." Matt lowered his eyes, "I know, intellectually, that there's no way you'll stop. I _know_ , intellectually, that what you're doing is right. This isn't about age, before you bring that up. This is... this is about me. Getting attached. Like an idiot."

Oh.

"Oh," A lump formed in Peter's throat, and Matt handed him a cup of steaming tea. "It's not stupid to get attached, Matt."

"Isn't it?" Matt offered him a tight, humorless laugh. "Here I am, depriving New York of one of it's heroes because I've gotten _attached_. I'm sure that's pretty stupid."

"It means you care," Peter offered quietly, and took a sip of the peach tea, reveling in the sweet smell. "Mm, this is good. Anyways, Matt, I'm attached to you. I'm attached to _New York_. And that's why I do what I do. Is that a weakness?"

"No, of course not," Matt shook his head and took a sip of his own tea. "That's what makes you, _you_."

Peter raised his eyebrows, patiently waiting for Matt to figure it out.

Matt turned pale pink. "It's different for me," he muttered under his breath.

"How?" Peter tilted his head to the side and ran his thumb against the bottom of his cup. "What separates us?"

"I'm, I'm a soldier," Matt's forehead creased as his eyebrows knit themselves together. "I'm Daredevil."

He could hear the frown in Peter's voice as he responded, a bit more confused than before, "But you're also Matt Murdock."

"Matt Murdock is just..." He blew out a frustrated sigh, "Matt Murdock is just a front. Daredevil is what I am. I was made to fight, that's my job, I'm a... I'm a soldier. Getting attached, having people close to you, that's just stupidity." He inhaled, slow and thoughtful. "That's just weakness."

Peter's heart hammered against his chest as he demanded angrily, "Am I just a weakness then? Am I just weighing you down, making you stupid?" He jammed his thumb against his chest, voice rising with every word, "Or am I just another soldier, here to fight some war?"

Matt flinched, shaking his head, "No, that's not, you're not, you're _never_..."

"Then explain the difference to me!" Peter snarled back, furious and heated and shrill. "Explain that this entire time, I've been living with a front! Tell me that every time you smile at me, it's fake! Tell me that you don't actually care, that I'm just a weakness, weighing you down!"

"You _know_ you aren't!"

"Then what _am_ I?"

"You're my kid!" Matt snapped, waving his hands into the air and putting his tea on the table. "Okay? You're my kid, and I care about you and that will _never_ be a weakness!"

"Then I help to make you real, don't I?" Peter demanded, pressing a hand against his chest. "Then Matt Murdock's _you_ , isn't he? Aren't you Matt Murdock? Are you really going to try and tell me that was all a front?"

Matt shook his head, mute and stunned. "Never."

"Then you're just being dumb, right?" Peter started crying. Stupid hormones. "There's nothing wrong with getting attached, right?"

"I..." Matt started crying, too. "Sorry, Peter."

"Yeah, okay," Peter wiped his eyes, "I, um, yeah. So," He cleared his throat. "Can I patrol tomorrow?"

"Heck no."


End file.
